


"When I'm 64"

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth doesn't really remember the first time she saw John shirtless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"When I'm 64"

Elizabeth doesn't really remember the first time she saw John shirtless. At some point during those first few months, she knows she probably did, either while working somewhere or after he'd been hurt. She'd seen plenty of half-naked men in her life and didn't find it remarkable. At some point she knows part of her brain checked him out when he was sans his usual black t-shirt but the date and event have faded from her memory, other than a vague notion that she knew early on that he was even more attractive without the shirt.

She clearly remembers the first time he saw _her_ shirtless, but that's probably because the only person more embarrassed at that moment than her was John. It took months before he dared tease her about it, which was unusual since John rarely missed an opportunity to tweak her about things even back then.

"What?" he asks her now, eyebrows raised. He's sitting on the bed wearing nothing but his dog tags and boxers, fresh out of the shower after another long day, which is a perfectly ordinary sight in her life now. Elizabeth can't explain why she's suddenly so caught by the sight of him unclothed and in her bed when it's how their days frequently end.

She shrugs and sits down beside him, her legs folded up underneath her, and traces her fingers lightly along his shoulder. She can see the faint scars on his skin, some of them newer than others.

He closes the book and sets it aside. He's looking at her, half-expecting an answer and half-hopeful, because he's a guy and any sort of touching of bare skin might be a prelude to sex, as long as no injuries were involved.

She can't resist the opportunity to pay back some of his teasing, so she trails her fingers down his chest. "I remember when you didn't have any gray down here."

He scowls, with the hurt puppy expression that only makes her grin more. But she goes for appeasement by reaching up and running her fingers through the hair over his ear where a gray streak is trying to grow in. She grazes his earlobe with her nails. His face goes from pouting to blissful in a flash and she chuckles. "I guess it does make you look more distinguished."

He pries open his eyes. "Not old and crochety?"

"I think you're a ways away from yelling at the damn kids to stay off the lawn," she tells him, watching the way the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles a bit when he smiles. She should know to be wary of that smirk of his, but his hands slide to her hips and his thumbs unerringly find the sensitive spots there and make her groan under her breath.

"How are your knees feeling this evening, anyway?" he asks, and she thinks at first this is punishment for the cracks about his gray hair until he nuzzles her neck and urges her to get up and straddle his lap. She settles and his arms slide around her body, under the t-shirt she stole from him months ago to sleep in, caressing her back while he nibbles on her earlobe.

"If my knees ever get too old for this? Shoot me," she mutters when his tongue gets involved.

She can feel his laugh against her neck and the hot breath against the delicate skin makes her shiver. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. We've adapted so far." He pulls away so he can strip the shirt off her. His hands are moving over her bare flesh instantly and she rocks into his hips blindly as he finishes, slightly breathless. "We'll always find a way for this."

Her fingers tunnel through his hair, reminding her what started this. "Even when we're old and gray?" she asks.

John shoots her a look, a not so subtle reminder of her own emotional nosedive when she started finding significant gray hairs of her own. "_Really_ old and gray," she amends.

"Count on it," he tells her, drawing her into a kiss.


End file.
